For Sparkling Regency Romance...

 

 

            The following morning Felicity hurried toward the herb gardens and the assignation with her dark admirer.  A meeting that would never have taken place had she not learned of Ben’s duplicity.

            The memory of his betrayal brought such a wave of despair her vision was momentarily affected by welling tears, so that she literally ran into someone bending down to gather herbs.

            “Forgive me,” Felicity stammered as she caught the woman’s elbow in an attempt to steady her.  “I haven’t hurt you, I hope.”

            The hood of the cloak her victim wore fell back, revealing a wrinkled visage and two dark eyes that studied Felicity’s features intently.

            “My basket,” the old woman commanded, finally breaking the spell that had held Felicity motionless.  “Fetch it for me, if you please.”

            Felicity hastened to comply, sweeping up the herbs that had spilled out before she presented their container to its owner.  As she did, she realized from her dress that the old woman was a Gypsy.

            All the frightening tales she’d heard about these mysterious people raced through her mind.  Before she could make her escape, however, the woman captured her hand, turning it to examine the lines on her palm with the same intensity she had just focused on her features.

            “Tell your fortune, my lady?”

            “No, thank you,” Felicity managed, pulling her hand from her gnarled fingers.

            “No charge,” the Gypsy beguiled.  “I’ll read your palm in return for your kindness.”

            “I don’t want my fortune told.”

            “Everyone wants to know what their future holds.” The Gypsy again considered her face.  “Yours isn’t what you believe it to be.  Not now.”

            Meaningless mumbo-jumbo, Felicity thought.  However do they convince people to pay for this nonsense?

            “And this one...” the old woman continued, “...is not for you.”

            At that moment Felicity became aware of what the Gypsy must already have sensed.  The exotic stranger she had come to meet was striding toward them.

            “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

            For a moment Felicity thought he was addressing her.  Then she realized his inquiry had been directed at the Gypsy.

            “Plying my trade,” the old woman answered.  “As are you, I see.”

            “You don’t belong here,” the man responded, grasping the Gypsy’s elbow to turn her away.

            “Nor do you.”  She pulled free of his grip, clearly unintimidated, despite his obvious anger.

            “Don’t hurt her,” Felicity begged, putting a restraining hand on his arm.  “She only came to gather herbs.”

            Her suitor ignored Felicity’s defense to again berate the crone.  “I’m warning you.  Keep out of my affairs.”

            “Then conduct them with more care.  This girl,” the Gypsy lifted her chin toward Felicity, “shouldn’t be part of those.”

            For the first time the stranger’s eyes focused on Felicity.  Something about their intensity nagged at her, like a melody she’d once heard and couldn’t quite remember. 

            “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, returning his attention to the old woman.

            “I swore I would help you,” she said, “but this...this is beneath you.  Beneath the Rom Baro.”

            The last phrase seemed to infuriate the stranger anew.  He pulled the old woman around and put his hand between her shoulders to propel her away.  “Go back where you belong.”

            “Will you come with me, chaveske chav?” she asked.  “To where you belong?”

            The stranger made a menacing move, his hand raised.  With a laugh the Gypsy continued down the path he’d set her on, disappearing as it curved deeper into the gardens.

            The stranger turned to smile at Felicity, his features all amiability once more.  “I was beginning to worry that whatever prevented your coming yesterday might keep you away again today.”

            To avoid the painful subject of why she hadn’t met him yesterday, Felicity asked, “Do you know her?”

            “That hag?  What have I to do with her?” he responded with a laugh.  “Let me look at you.  You’ve grown even more beautiful since last we met.”

            With one finger he traced slowly down the curve of her cheek.  When he reached her chin, he tilted her face upward as he smiled down at her.

            That strange sense of déjà vu troubled her again.  As if she had peered deeply into these same eyes before.  The feeling jolted, causing her to step back.

            “Is something wrong?” he asked.

            Something was wrong, Felicity realized.  Very wrong. Despite the pain of Ben’s betrayal, she couldn’t become involved with this man.  A man about whom she knew nothing.

            Except the way he had treated the old Gypsy, who obviously cared about him.

            “I must go.” 

            “But you’ve just arrived,” the stranger protested.  “And I’ve been dreaming of this meeting since we parted last.  It’s as if you’ve cast a spell over me.”  He smiled as he said the last, slipping his arm behind her waist to urge her closer.

            Without a conscious decision to do so, Felicity placed her hands against his chest to push him away.  “I shouldn’t have come.”

            “But of course you should.  This was meant to be.  We both felt it.”

            She shook her head, realizing what a mistake she’d made.

            “You must know I’m in love with you,” he avowed softly.  “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

            Shocked, she looked up into his eyes, her lips parted to protest.  Before she could, his mouth descended over hers.

            Although she twisted and turned, trying to free herself, he was too strong.  As he deepened the kiss, she began to be afraid, remembering how deserted the gardens were at this time of day.

            Suddenly the arms that had captured her released their hold.  The stranger was jerked backward, and a fist at the end of a uniformed sleeve connected with his chin.

            Ben.  And despite what he’d done, Felicity had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

            Having lost the element of surprise, her rescuer was now being forced to grapple with an assailant who seemed more than capable of holding his own.  A quick twist of the stranger’s body took him out of the way of Ben’s next blow and allowed him to land his own facer.

            Then Ben’s knuckles merely grazed his opponent’s cheekbone as the dark man ducked at the precise moment they should have smashed against his nose.  He exploded out of his crouch to drive his head into the soldier’s midsection.  Ben held on to take them both down as he fell.

            Panicked by the thought of once more being subjected to the stranger’s unwanted advances, Felicity grasped his shoulder, trying to pull him off her rescuer, but he pushed her aside.  Her efforts did allow Ben to regroup.  He managed to get his feet under the stranger’s body to throw him off.  With an audible crack, the back of that dark head connected with one of the stones outlining the path.

            Ben sprang to his feet.  Fists raised, he stood over his opponent as if daring him to rise.  With one hand the stranger wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his dark eyes never leaving the soldier who’d felled him.

            “Tell Carlow this isn’t the end.”

            “Carlow?” Ben repeated in confusion.  “Do you mean Hal?”

            The stranger whose elegance Felicity had once admired struggled to his feet.  His pantaloons were marred with dirt, and at some point in the brawl, his cravat had come undone.  Despite his dishevelment, he still managed to look as if he believed he was in charge.

            “Carlow and his accursed line.”  The stranger’s eyes left Ben’s to find hers, his face relaxing into a slight smile.  “It seems my grandmother was right.  This was not meant to be.”

            With a boldness that took them both by surprise, he stepped forward to catch Felicity’s hand, bending over it to bestow a lingering, and far too intimate, kiss.  When he lifted his head, his eyes reflected only amusement.  “I wish you joy of your soldier, my dear.”

            With that he turned on his heel and strode off along the same path the old woman had taken, leaving Felicity alone with her rescuer--the same man who had so cruelly and despicably betrayed her affections.